


Hesitation

by Doctor_Discord



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood Loss, Blood and Gore, Graphic Description, Injury, Major Character Injury, Poor Illinois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:21:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23736037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Discord/pseuds/Doctor_Discord
Summary: Illinois hesitates a moment too long, and he gets caught in a trap.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 34





	Hesitation

One slip-up.

That’s all it took.

One brief, half a second moment of hesitation, and Illinois was done.

His breath came in wheezing gasps that grated on his own ears, struggling to stay upright and standing. He swallowed hard, eyes rolling back in his head when his quivering legs caused his feet to slip on the growing pool of blood beneath him, and the _agony_ that shot through his body was nearly enough to make him pass out.

Eyelids fluttering, Illinois gathered the courage to glance down, struggling to gain his footing once more. He nearly threw up, shaking hands coming up to grip the _massive_ metal _spike_ that jutted through his stomach, pinning him to the cave wall. There was at least three feet of the spike before him, and he didn’t dare twist around to see behind him. The metal was slick with a thin sheen of red, and Illinois squeezed his eyes shut, gasping out a sob when his feet slipped again.

The sound of Illinois’ blood dripping from his body and the spike into the steadily spreading pool below echoed all throughout the cave, bouncing in Illinois’ head. His grip tightened on the spike, his chest heaving. He was almost _numb_ at this point, the pain so great he couldn’t even feel it. He opened his eyes again, licking his lips, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. He’d lost his hat. It was probably below him, soaking in his blood.

Illinois forced himself to look at his wound, at the _gaping hole_ in his abdomen that was only filled by the thing that had tore through him. His shirt was _soaked_ in blood, over-saturated and bloated and _dripping_. Swallowing forcefully, Illinois slowly let go of the spike with one hand, reaching for the knife on his belt with trembling, blood-slick fingers. He cut away his shirt around the wound, hands shaking so bad from blood loss and pain and _shock_ that he accidentally cut himself a few times, but he didn’t even feel it, whatever blood that spilt from them mingling indistinguishably from the gaping wound. 

And when he _saw_ the damage, Illinois quickly learned that he didn’t have a functioning digestive track _to_ throw up.

Dark – almost black – blood trickled from his mouth as he coughed and heaved, strength quickly fading. The flesh around the spike was torn in big chunks, plastered to the metal with blood. Whenever he breathed, whenever he moved, whenever he _twitched_ , he could _see_ the blood gurgling and pulsing out of his body like a fountain. Illinois made a high-pitched noise, head lolling on his shoulders, steeling his resolve.

And he _pulled_.

He cried out, tears flowing heavily down his face as he took a single, halting step, _dragging_ himself along the spike. He barely moved a couple inches. And _God_ the _pain_ …Illinois never thought he’d have to find out what his _organs_ felt like _sliding_ over metal, but here he was, legs giving out from under him, hands slipping from their position and dangling limply off the spike. It was too much. It was _too much_ , he wanted to pass out, he wanted to just give in and _die_ , but he was too stubborn, and there was still blood in his body – not a lot, but it was there – so he would keep fighting.

So he got to his feet.

He gripped the spike.

And he _pulled_.

 _Over_ and _over_ and _over_ again.

It took what felt like _hours,_ but as the spike’s width grew smaller, moving grew a little easier. But it brought to light a new problem. Illinois was _bleeding_ , he was bleeding _fast_ , and as the spike slowly stopped plugging the would completely, Illinois began to see his intestines hanging down to fill the gap, _writhing_ and _squirming_ and flopping out of his body like a seizing snake. Illinois kept having to pause to shove them back into his body, lest they completely fall out and drag across the dusty cave floor.

And when he reached the end of the spike, Illinois could do nothing more than let his eyes roll back in his head as he collapsed forward.

His consciousness was fading, black creeping around the edges. Blood was _rapidly_ spreading out beneath his limp body, soaking into what remained of his clothes, lapping at his cheek. The cold stone of the cave felt nice against his skin. Illinois shivered. He could hardly _breathe_ , his lungs rattling and wheezing. He could _feel_ his intestines still _writhing_ , the split, severed end of one slapping against his back. He could still hear dripping.

At last, Illinois – _mercifully_ – passed out.

**Author's Note:**

> >:3  
>  _First Illinois story I ever wrote_
> 
> Tumblr: doctordiscord123.tumblr.com


End file.
